by A. R. Wilson
“Is this locale the area in which the griffins once owned?” Kidelar pulled another leaf from his hair.
“No, they reigned far to the east of here. One of Einiko’s signature acts is to relocate anything and everyone he conquers.” Azredan brushed off the drying mud.
“Do we truly have a chance to retrieve the sword?”
“As long as there is breath in Jurren’s lungs, then there is hope.”
Kidelar looked over at him. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to utilize that ring of yours.”
Jurren tossed it over to him. “Knock yourself out.”
“You are so not funny, Jurren.”
“No point in wishing for something we can’t have. If the elves haven’t cursed it yet, they will soon. Go ahead and take the risk, if you want.”
Kidelar furrowed his brow, then picked up the ring to hand it back. “I must decline. Clearly, it has already poisoned the mood of the one who carries it.”
Jurren shoved it in his pocket while imagining it bouncing off Kidelar’s forehead.
“Alright, we need to discuss the next leg of our journey.” Azredan crossed his legs and leaned his elbows onto his knees. “Jurren, tell me what you see.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Come now, I know the vision still holds you. Search for truth about what lies ahead.”
Arkose glanced over at him.
Jurren shrugged. “Still nothing.”
“Let’s try—” Azredan started to speak but Jurren cut him off.
“I’m not interested in your elven mind games. You know where we need to go next, so let’s just follow you.”
Azredan titled his head. “You haven’t felt the change?”
“What?”
“Your ears.”
He felt at the sides of his head. The tips of his ears tapered to a soft point.
“Why did you do this to me?” Jurren scrambled to his feet.
“Returning to a whole and healed state is what happens when I pray over an injury. This is the work of the Ever One.”
“Your Ever One is as worthless as the Fates.”
Azredan’s face hardened. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Leaving his pack where it lay, the elf stood and walked around the next corner.
“Where do you suppose he’s gone off to?” Kidelar glanced at Jurren, then quickly dropped his gaze.
“Somewhere to be dramatic.” Jurren touched one his ears. The feeling of that gentle point brought a gnawing to his gut.
“Elves have a tendency to do that.” Arkose laced his hands together.
“If you have something to say, come out and say it.”
Kidelar rocked onto his knees and put his arms out. “Gentlemen. This is unnecessary.”
“Alright, I’ll say it.” Arkose stood. “You’re freaking me out with all your elvish stuff. Knowing things you’ve never learned, raising Kidelar from the dead. I defended you in Chlopahn, but now I don’t know what to believe.”
“You think I like this?” Jurren squared his feet. “You think I want to return home to my wife like this?” He flexed clawed hands at the sides of his head. “I can barely sleep, my daughter is being held hostage as a surrogate for some demonic warlock, everything I abandoned from my homeland is coming back to haunt me, a goblin army is poised to attack my village after killing my best friend, not to mention we have no way of getting food or water anymore. And you have the audacity to say I’m freaking you out? Well guess what? Some wayward elf keeps trying to convince me that all of this means I’m some sort of apprentice to him. I’m freaked out!”
“And you stink.”
Jurren blinked. A laugh tried to work its way up his throat, but his heart was beating too fast to give in to it. “You stink even worse.”
“I don’t like this Jurren.” Arkose rubbed his hand on the back of his head. “But I guess I don’t have to. I promised I would help you find Tascana, and I’m a man of my word.”
“And it’s not like you could turn back home if you wanted to.”
Arkose grinned. “Yep, that too.”
“Wonderful. Now that we have that settled.” Kidelar stood to continue brushing himself off. “As soon as Azredan returns, we will resume our journey.”
Several minutes later, they were still waiting. Jurren offered to go around the corner to see what kept the elf. A long, empty corridor stretched out for several hundred yards.
Jurren walked back to his companions. “He’s gone.”
Shrugging on his pack, Arkose stood. “Where would he go?”
“He did seem offended by your comment.” Kidelar scratched at the beard he was now growing in.
“Offended enough to abandon his mission? I doubt it.” Jurren hoisted Azredan’s pack onto his arm and pulled out his sword. “More likely he sulked off and got in trouble. Let’s go.”
He led them down the passage to the first branch of a path.
“Which way?” Arkose’s tone had picked up that hint of annoyance again.
Jurren sighed. There was something he didn’t quite trust in his inner knowing, and how it always predicted the future. How could learning about elves translate into him having a prophetic gift? Wasn’t there more to it that? Like the spells and rituals wizards endured in order to receive an answer from the Fates. How could simply wanting to know truth infuse him with wisdom? Especially things he couldn’t possibly know. There had to be a catch in this somewhere. He worried that the closer they came to the castle, the closer he came to an answer he didn’t want to know. But at this point, what other choice did he have? They needed to find Azredan and the only way to do that was to search that inner knowing.
Jurren gasped. “He’s really gone.”
“Gone where?” Kidelar looked around him to see further in.
“Gone as in he left us. Gone.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Arkose ran his hand to the back of his neck.
“He...” Jurren pressed a palm to his forehead, not wanting to believe the truth bubbling to the surface. “He wants me to learn how to seek the Ever One, so he has left us until his presence is critically needed.”
“Without his pack?”
Jurren nodded.
“That’s absurd.” Kidelar closed his eyes and shook his head. “There is no logic is such a tactic.”
“It doesn’t need to make sense to us, as long as it makes sense to him.” Jurren flung the pack down.
“So we’re on our own? Reeking like a pack of enraged skunks? If the minotaurs don’t chase us down something else will.” Arkose threw his hands in the air.
“Now, now. Let us not jump to conclusions.” Kidelar lowered to a squatting position. “Perhaps, Jurren isn’t perceiving things clearly.”
Arkose snapped his head to stare down Kidelar. “Oh right, because he’s been wrong on so many things since we started this pig chase.”
“Pig chase?”
Waving a hand, Jurren gave a dark laugh. “Kidelar knows far more about categories of plants than he does about raising livestock.”
“Don’t mock me!” Kidelar jumped to a stand.
“We’re all tired, hungry, and irritated.” Jurren waved his hands in a ‘calm down’ motion. “Let’s just focus on finding some food.”
“Well go ahead. Show us your superior, elf skills!”
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d learn how to read your own vision better.”
Kidelar’s lips screwed between a frown and trying to form a word.
“Come on Kid, you’ve always been better at this stuff than me.”
“You know I hate that nickname.”
“And you know I hate fighting with you. Stop listening to your heart and listen to your head.”
Running his fingers through his hair, Kidelar nodded. “You’re right. You are right. I know better than this.”
“So which way do we go if that elf has abandoned us?” Arkose picked up the discarded travel pack.
Jurren pulled h
is hood up, feeling more aware of his ears. “We keep moving. My vision from Ellesha Shan Shair has brought us this far.”
Kidelar adjusted the belt on his waist a little tighter. “Lead on.”
Tucking his thumbs under the straps across his chest, Jurren turned right. He followed his inner knowing until nightfall.
* * *
Jurren sat through the last watch of the night. Dawn of the eighth day since Azredan’s disappearance. Fresh water had become the new precious hope. Each grove or field they entered held another chance to find some, even if it meant fighting a minotaur or hawk man to obtain it. They left the last freshwater spring behind two days ago, and were running out of time to find another. With sunbeams lighting the top of the walls looming above them, Jurren moved to wake his companions.
“Are we going to find water today?” Arkose’s lips caked at the edges. “Please, tell me you see us finding water today.”
Kidelar rubbed a spot on his back. “I’m having that aura of a vision coming, but I see nothing.”
Jurren looked sideways at Kidelar. “What do you mean?”
“That tingle before the onslaught. It’s as if the images can’t get in. Don’t you feel it?”
“I don’t feel anything.”
“But we always have these together. How could I sense something when you do not?”
“But you aren’t exactly sensing something, are you?”
“I don’t suppose the sensing of sensing the coming of something is exactly noteworthy.”
“Enough with the useless prattle.” Arkose rubbed the cuff of his sleeve across his mouth. “Where do we go?”
Putting a hand to his forehead, Jurren braced himself. This is it. The break in the reprieve granted by the nightly need for rest. Time to dig into that inner knowing and seek for direction. Jurren had grown to loath it a little more each day. Gaining in knowledge without learning had become as uncomfortable as wondering how his wife faired back in Hess-Bren. The unknowns were almost as worrisome as the knowns. But, the only way to find Tascana, was to give into something he didn’t quite trust.
Jurren took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Calm spread into a place at the center of his being. He knew Azredan still wandered the labyrinth alone. A village loomed in the distance, with people hiding in fear. An enemy was coming for those poor souls. To torment them. A threat he had the ability to stop.
But time spent there will take away from—
It didn’t matter. For some absurdly, bizarre reason it didn’t matter how long they tarried in this new place. It was the right thing to do. These people needed him and he had the ability to get there. Everything else would work out for the good. He could it as plainly as he could see the promise of the sun rising on the following morning.
“We go this way.” He started walking.
“Did you see any water?” Arkose huffed as he grabbed two travel packs.
“I saw a village in need of our help.”
“A village? Like Ransom where they almost killed you?”
So this is why Azredan always keeps his knowledge to himself? Easier to deal with annoyed silence than explaining the truth.
“Not the same as Ransom.”
“Better or worse?”
“Both.”
“With those kinds of answers, I almost don’t miss our elven guide from before.”
Jurren flexed his jaw, keeping his temper in check. He needed water more than he needed to correct Arkose’s attitude. "I can’t explain it better than what I’ve already said. By helping these people, we will also end up helping ourselves.”
“Help them with what?” Kidelar came alongside Jurren.
“We’ll know when we get there.”
Technically, he wasn’t lying. The moment they entered the village, they would know what the people needed help for. Trying to explain the few details he knew would only cause them to have more questions. Or possibly, even cause them to waste time and energy fearing the battle that waited for them.
By the time he saw the wide breech in the wall leading to open land, a new understanding came to him. Whatever intended to harm these people, had not come yet.
“I see grass!” Arkose hurried forward.
“Wait.” Jurren grabbed the side of the man’s pack as he jogged ahead. “This is the gap leading to the village.”
“Grass means water.”
“I know, we’ll find some. Stay behind me.”
Arkose huffed a sigh then walked to stand behind Kidelar.
Inching along the wall, Jurren moved to see through the gap. A wide field spilled into the distance, with trees at the far end. As he scanned the knee high grass, he heard a faint trickle. With no signs of any persons, friendly or otherwise, Jurren gestured for the men to follow him. He guided them to a stream where they each took their fill and replenished their waterbags.
With thirst out of the way, hunger pushed to the front as the pressing complaint. But food wasn’t going to be easy to find in a place where people had to scrape for every bite consumed.
Thud.
“What was that?” Kidelar’s head snapped towards the trees.
Thud.
“It happened again.” Arkose looked around.
Thud.
“We need to get to the forest.” Jurren glanced at the opening leading into the labyrinth, then ran in the opposite direction.
Thud.
The rhythmic thump continued as they headed for cover. Jurren didn’t steal another look back until he tucked behind that first tree.
“What... is... that...?” Kidelar breathed the words more than spoke them.
A red lump moved above the wall at the end of the field. The lump doubled back, then grew in size while the thudding increasing.
“It’s taller than the labyrinth wall!” Arkose hunched next to a tree.
A flurry of small rodents and insects scurried in from the gap. Wafts of sulfur rolled towards them. A pause in the thuds resulted in hollow snorting similar to the noise their companion dragons used to make when sniffing.
Red scales flowed over the hulking mass of a head moving into the gap. Next an arm. As it stepped through, it resembled a dragon without wings. A long, angular torso filled over half the height of the wall. No neck. Only a massive, pointed head atop its broad shoulders. Thorny spikes ran along the edges of its jaw and up into its forehead. Squat legs bowed to the side. A barbed tail slithered in the grass behind it as it advanced.
“We can’t let it reach the village.” Jurren whispered as loud as he dared.
“Any ideas on how to do that?” Arkose reached for his sword.
A hollow, burst of air came from the beast. Flexed arms arched towards its chest. Flames sprang up all along its body, igniting the grass. Jurren watched as each footfall caused another patch to burn. Looking overhead, he wondered how much effort it would take on the beast’s part to set the whole forest on fire. The best thing to fight the flames was the one thing they didn’t have in large supply: water. Was using the ring worth the risk? He wondered which might hurt the people here more, poisoning the ground with tainted water or letting the land burn.
Once the beast crossed halfway through the field, it bent at the waist. Taking a deep breath, it shot fire towards the trees. The stream extended far beyond what Jurren thought possible. A large swath of grass turned to ash as flames exploded along the blast.
“No options.” Jurren pulled out the ring.
He put it on and poured the full of his will into imagining a flashflood. Water burst forth from the forest, rushing along the ground. The creature bellowed another blast of fire at the coming gush. Steam hissed under the blaze. As water pooled around the beast, the steaming increased. The beast stumbled backward as though in pain. Water surged up to its ankles. Unable to step away from the swell, it eventually fell over. Gusts of hissing erupted. Great roaring, like a cross between a bear and a lion, issued from its mouth. The flames along its body died down. As its writing slowed, Jurren wanted to b
reathe a sigh of relief. His inner knowing wouldn’t allow it.
A voice barked from behind. “What have you done?”
That familiar stench crept through the air. Jurren turned to see a goblin, in all its gray-skinned glory, standing less than twenty feet away. For a brief moment, Jurren thought he heard Kidelar scream. But as soon as Jurren’s eyes registered that goblin, instinct took over. Brandishing his sword, he charged. The goblin jumped into a tree, just out of reach.
“No one defies The Master!” The goblin’s mouth frothed as he spoke, irregularly arranged teeth biting at his words. “I will enjoy ripping you apart, piece by piece.”
It screeched a deafening cry then scampered up the tree. Leaping from branch to branch, it ran into the forest. Jurren sprinted after it.
“What are you thinking?” Arkose bellowed.
Jurren called over his shoulder. “That thing is going to find more of its kind. We have to stop them.”
“Is this what you saw waiting for us in this place?”
Jurren halted his jog to face him. “Not exactly.”
“Oh, so now you feel perfectly fine leading us into a trap without saying anything? If we hadn’t entered this place, we wouldn’t even have to deal with any of this.”
“Leaving these people to a life worse than death is okay with you?”
“Who is going to help them after you die? We can’t stop Einiko if—”
Jurren snapped out a hand to the side. “If you want to run and hide, then do it.”
Turning on his heel, he broke into a sprint. He didn’t even know why. All he knew was he had to find that goblin. Like needing air when swimming under water. The longer they were separated, the more intense the feeling became.
The occasional falling branch showed the path the goblin had taken. Jurren raced through the trees. Twice he heard it scream its shattering cry. Probably calling to the others. Fumbling against his pumping legs, he pushed his sword back into its sheath, then snatched free his bow and two arrows.
Cutting left then right, the goblin hopped from tree to tree. A wide space opened up ahead. Jurren stopped and set an arrow. As gray skin plunged to the ground to run across the gap, Jurren released. The arrow embedded in its back. Crumbling into a heap, the goblin crashed to a halt. Jurren ran to close the distance. After pulling his arrow free, he pushed the creature onto its back with his foot. Pointed teeth poked out from curled lips. For a brief moment, Jurren felt sorry for it. But like every one he fell before, his next thought focused on how many waited ahead.
